By Any Other Name
by steenbeans
Summary: Takes place during the summer between S2 and S3. Veronica takes on a new case, enlisting the help of her closest friends and her on-again boyfriend, Logan Echolls. But as she tries to solve the mystery of her client's past, the events of her own past continue to haunt her. Works within canon, and also as a prequel to Knowing the Difference.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Early morning sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows of Mars Investigations, casting yellow and red pools across the floor and walls. The effect was rather soothing, and not at all conducive to productivity. Veronica's eyes strayed longingly towards the shabby old couch against the wall for several seconds, before she turned her attention back to the task at hand.

"How you making out, kiddo?"

Veronica looked up to find her dad standing in the doorway to his office, coffee mug in hand. She stretched a large rubber band around a stack of files, dumping them unceremoniously into the open box beside her. "Well, that's the last of the Goodman files."

Keith Mars grimaced, attempting to hide it by taking a quick sip of coffee. That case had led both of them down unexpectedly perilous paths, and Veronica's involvement in the investigation had nearly gotten her killed. She knew her father still blamed himself for inadvertently putting her in danger, even though she'd spent the last two weeks trying to convince him that it hadn't been his fault.

"As much as I appreciate you coming in here to reprise your role of secretary, today, I think you should go home and get some sleep. It's only-" Keith paused to look down at his watch. "Eight o'clock in the morning, California time."

"Well I'm still on New York time, so it feels like eleven," Veronica replied, waving her hand dismissively. "And FYI, I prefer the term 'administrative tsar'."

Keith smiled at her affectionately, taking another sip of his coffee. He made a face, setting the mug down on top of a nearby filing cabinet. "And would it be beneath the administrative tsar to get her old man a coffee and a danish, from that fancy new joint down the block?"

"Not if you're buying."

He pulled out his wallet and handed her a five. "Here, treat yourself to one of those caramel mocha concoctions your generation is so partial to."

Veronica held up the money doubtfully. "Um, Dad? This might cover the foam on _top_ of the latte."

Keith shook his head in disbelief, handing her a twenty and taking back the five. "Fifty cents, in my day."

"Actually," Veronica corrected. "Fifty Cent is from _my_ day."

She grinned at his bemused expression, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before heading out the door.

**xxXxx**

As much fun as she'd had in Manhattan, Veronica hadn't been a fan of the sticky, humid heat. It had risen off the pavement in filmy waves, giving her a new appreciation for the word "sweltering". She took her time walking back to the office, enjoying the familiar feel of the mild California sunshine on her face.

A buzzing sensation against her thigh snapped her back to the present. She set the coffee tray and brown bag down on a nearby bench and retrieved her cell phone from her jeans pocket. The name on the screen brought a smile to her face, and she flipped the phone open to answer the call.

"It's a little early for a booty call," she noted.

"It's _never_ too early for a booty call," Logan corrected. His voice was a bit gravelly; she could tell he'd just woken up.

"Good to know," she teased. "I'll add that intel to your file."

"I only wish you were joking about having a file on me," he replied dryly. "Tell me, what other morsels have you collected? Food allergies? The name of my first pet? The place I'm most ticklish?"

"Shellfish, Gilligan and the backs of your knees," she returned quickly, smiling rather smugly into the receiver.

"Only two out of three?" Logan chided. "Wow, a week apart and it's like you don't even know who I _am _anymore."

Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. Veronica was certain about the shellfish; she'd been there, once, when a crabmeat appetizer had sent him into anaphylactic shock. _And I've never quite recovered from hearing the sad tale of Gilligan the turtle. Which means…_

"I _know_ you're ticklish there," she insisted.

"I am," he agreed. "But it's not where I'm _most_ ticklish."

"Well I'm officially launching a thorough investigation," she informed him.

"Mmm, I look forward to it."

The tone of his voice sent a pleasantly nervous tingle through her abdomen. She and Logan were just barely a couple again, but true to form they were settling into their old patterns. _Banter, flirt, evade, repeat. Both of us so eager to cover our worn, peeling pasts with a glossy new layer of paint._

Veronica cleared her throat. "Why are you up so early, anyway?"

"What, it's not in my file?" he teased. "It's high tide in twenty minutes."

"Ah," she replied. "And which of your degenerate friends will be joining you on the waves this morning?"

There was a long pause, and Veronica cringed when she realized why. _Duncan's gone, Dick's in the Caymans and Cassidy's dead. He doesn't have anyone _left_ to go surfing with._

"I'm, uh, going it alone today," he finally answered, somehow managing to keep his tone even. "Unless you're finally ready to accept those lessons I offered?"

"Not today," she declined. "I'm helping my dad get things organized in the office. You'd think the fine people of Neptune could take it easy on the crime for one measly week, but no such luck. While we were gone, the cheaters cheated and bail jumpers jumped."

"Criminals," he scoffed. "They really are good for nothing."

"Except crime," Veronica amended. "Well, until they screw up and we catch them."

"Right," Logan laughed. "Listen, I've got to run. The tides are sort of punctual. But dinner tonight, right? I want to hear all about your trip."

"Pick me up at seven," she confirmed.

Veronica and Logan said their goodbyes and she continued towards the office, feeling lighter after their conversation. Despite their skilled avoidance at discussing the many looming topics that needed to be discussed, sometimes the knowledge that he'd been through it all with her was just enough to keep her sane.

**xxXxx**

Veronica arrived back at the building at the same time as a tall man dressed in a well-tailored suit. He held the door open for her, offering a polite smile, and she thanked him and headed up the stairs.

No sooner had she set the coffee down on her desk than did she hear the door to the office open behind her. The suited man stepped into the room, closing the door gently behind him and turning to face her.

"Hello," he greeted in a melodic British accent. The man crossed the room towards her, transferring his briefcase to his left hand and reaching out his right. "I'm Charles Bentley."

She shook his hand briefly, eyeing him with interest. Their usual clientele was decidedly less courteous. _And nowhere _near _as well-dressed. _"Veronica," she replied, shaking his proffered hand.

"Pleasure to meet you. I've got an eight-thirty appointment with Mr. Mars, but I'm afraid I'm a bit early."

"Eight-thirty?" she repeated. Veronica glanced down at her desk calendar, affecting an expression of mild confusion as she flipped through the pages. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bentley, I don't seem to have you on the schedule…"

It was a lie; his name was written clearly in her father's neat print on the calendar. She was trying to get him to divulge more information, in an attempt to discover what, exactly, her father had been up to for the past week. Not only had his mysterious case delayed him from joining her in New York for three days, but her dad hadn't disclosed a single detail about it to Veronica.

"Oh, dear, have I gotten the date mixed up?" he asked worriedly. "I do apologize. I could have sworn I had it right."

"Maybe it's under your company name instead?" she suggested. "Who do you work for?"

He eyed her doubtfully. "Charles Bentley Art Appraisals. I'm here to consult on-"

"Mr. Bentley?" her father spoke up, walking forward quickly. "I'm Keith Mars. Thank you for coming in this morning. Please, step into my office." He cast Veronica an exasperated look as Mr. Bentley walked into his office, mouthing the words "nice try". She handed him his coffee and danish with a sweet smile.

Her dad disappeared into his office, shutting the door firmly behind him. Veronica stared at the closed door wistfully. It wasn't like him to miss out on nearly half of their vacation, especially when that vacation had been his special graduation gift to her. _And not even a _hint_ to me as to what it was all about. Which means, whatever it was, it was big._

Veronica shrugged off her hoody and slung it over the back of her chair, vowing not to become preoccupied with her father's current case. She placed both hands on her hips as she surveyed the paper-covered desk before her, trying to decide what to tackle next. There was still a lot of work to do.

She'd just begun organizing the files on Terrence Cook when the door to the office swung open, revealing a pretty brunette who looked to be in her early twenties. The woman hesitated at the door for half a moment before closing it behind her and stepping forward.

"Um, hi," she began, offering Veronica a small smile. "I don't have an appointment or anything, but I was hoping to speak with Mr. Mars?"

"I'm sorry, he's with another client right now," Veronica replied. "I'm not sure how long he's going to be. Why don't I take down your information, and-"

"I don't mind waiting," the young woman interjected quickly. "I live sort of far from here, and well, I…" She laughed shortly. "To be honest, I'm afraid if I leave I'll lose my nerve and never come back."

Instantly intrigued, Veronica sat down at her desk, gesturing wordlessly to a nearby chair. The girl took a seat, flashing a grateful look in her direction. Veronica cleared her throat. "Do you mind telling me what this is about?" she asked. "I may be able to get started on your case, while my- while Mr. Mars is occupied."

Veronica was prepared for the usual look of disbelief; that presumption that no one as young as herself could _possibly_ be able to help. Yet, this time, it didn't come.

"That would be great," her new client agreed quickly. "But I don't know where to start."

Veronica pulled a notepad and pen out of the top drawer of her desk. "Let's start with your name."

"Oh, sorry, it's Rose. Rose D'Angelo."

"I'm Veronica. So, what brings you here today?"

"I want to find my mom."

Veronica felt her lips tighten at the words. Lost mothers were still a rather sore subject; her own wounds hadn't quite scabbed over yet. But she kept her tone composed, as her pen hovered over her notepad. "And when did she go missing?"

"Go missing?" Rose repeated.

"Yeah, or when was the last time you saw her?" Veronica clarified.

"When I was born, I guess. She gave me up for adoption," Rose explained.

"Ah. And have you ever searched for her before?"

"No, not really. I mean, I've done a couple of half-assed internet searches, but I've never, like, seriously looked for her."

"Can I ask why you're interested in finding her now?" Veronica questioned.

Rose shook her head slightly. "I'm not even sure myself. I guess I've always been curious, but I didn't want to hurt my dad's feelings. I didn't want him to think he wasn't enough. But now…" She paused, looking down for several seconds. When she glanced back up, her eyes were wet. "He passed away, a few months ago, from liver cancer. And he was… I don't really have anyone else."

"I'm so sorry," Veronica said softly. She reached across her desk to hand a box of tissues to Rose, refusing to dwell on the prospect of losing her own father. She'd thought she had, just two weeks earlier, and it had been the darkest day of her life.

She waited silently while Rose dabbed at her eyes and got her breathing under control. When she appeared to be ready to continue, Veronica spoke. "So when you say your dad, you mean-"

"My adoptive dad, yeah. Frank."

"And where's your adoptive mom?"

Rose shrugged. "Vegas, I think. That's where she was the last time I spoke with her. She left when I was six. My dad raised me by himself."

"So he's the one who told you? That you'd been adopted?"

"No." Rose fidgeted in her chair. "No one's actually _told_ me," she admitted. "But I know that I was."

Veronica tilted her head. "How do you know?"

Rose gave her a wry smile. "I'm doing my post-grad in Genetics, at Stanford," she replied. "And there are just way too many things that don't add up, from a scientific perspective."

"Genetics, wow," Veronica replied, fighting the twinge of jealousy at the mention of Stanford. Up until a few weeks ago, it was where she'd thought _she'd_ be heading, after graduation. _Until I blew my last chance at the Kane scholarship._ "Impressive."

"It's fascinating," Rose replied, perking up significantly. "Like, I found out when I broke my thumb that I'm polydactyl; I was born with six fingers. The doctor pointed it out on my x-ray. And the crazy thing is that genetically, it's a dominant trait." She held up her left hand. "If you look really, really closely, you can still see the scar."

"Do you always begin conversations this way?" Veronica quoted. At Rose's confused look, she added, "You know, six fingers on your left hand? _The Princess Bride_?" She waved her hand quickly. "Never mind. Okay, so you're fairly certain that Frank wasn't your biological father?"

"I'm about 99.8% certain," Rose confirmed. "Basically, I'd have to be a complete genetic anomaly for him to be my dad."

"Got it. Okay, so unless Charles Xavier has sent you an evite to his School of Gifted Youngsters, we can safely assume you're not a mutant," Veronica reasoned.

"Unfortunately not," Rose grinned, clearly getting the reference. Her smile faded, and she looked down. "But my dad, uh- he never knew that I knew. I didn't have the heart to tell him."

_Ambiguous paternity: a Neptune staple_, Veronica thought, jotting down notes on her pad. _She'll fit right in, in this town._

It hadn't been so long ago that her _own_ father's paternity had been in question. Thankfully, he'd turned out to be her biological father. _But Wallace and Mac weren't so lucky._ Veronica stopped writing; she'd never thought about that, before. _Just one more thing we have in common, I guess._

She looked up, refocusing her attention on Rose. "And your mother?" she asked. "Have you spoken with her about any of this?"

"No," Rose replied, her expression darkening. "But I know she's not my real mother."

Veronica nodded. Her face remained blankly neutral, while her mind sifted through the facts. She'd dealt with several cases where a suspected adoption hadn't _actually _been an adoption. _And it's no mystery why Rose doesn't want to believe that her mother is really her mother. The woman abandoned her._

More than likely, she would discover that Rose's mother had had an affair, passing Rose off to her husband as his own child. It was far more common than people realized. Yet it was her job to look into every alternative. If Rose's suspicions were correct, and her father wasn't related to her by blood, it was reasonable to consider adoption as a viable possibility.

_But first I've got to figure out if her mother is her biological mother._ Veronica flipped back through her notes. "You said your mom is in Las Vegas?"

"She was a few months ago," Rose confirmed. "But she tends to move around a lot."

"Do you happen to have her address? I'll also need her full name, date of birth, and any other information you may have on her."

"Deidre D'Angelo," Rose told her. She rolled her eyes. "She kept my dad's last name because she liked the way it sounded. She lives in one of those big retirement communities out there, uh, Sun City I think? She's 'taking care' of her aunt, Ginnie Collins. But really she just wanted a free place to crash."

_Sounds charming._ "Does she have a job?"

"Yeah, she's waitressing at Caesar's. Before that I think she was at the Mirage."

Rose went on to give her some additional information about her mother, and then Veronica asked her about herself. Rose was twenty-two years old and living off-campus with her roommate up in Woodside. She was taking summer classes, in an attempt to graduate by January.

Once Veronica felt certain that she'd covered all of the essentials, they discussed payment and Rose wrote her a check.

"Here you go," Veronica said, handing her back a receipt. Both girls stood up. Rose was very tall, nearly six feet; she towered over Veronica.

As they shook hands, Veronica studied her closely. Beneath the red-rimmed eyes and mascara smudges was an extremely pretty young woman. Thick brown waves framed a delicate face, complete with creamy skin and high cheekbones. Her wide eyes were bright green, framed by long black lashes. There was something strangely familiar about them.

"I promise I'm not trying to hit on you or anything, but I have to ask- have you ever modeled?" Veronica questioned.

"Are you asking because I'm an Amazon woman?" Rose guessed.

"A very _pretty_ Amazon woman…" Veronica amended.

"I'm just glad you didn't ask if I play basketball. Because I get that one a lot."

"Oddly, I don't have an aching desire to know."

"I appreciate that," Rose said with a grin. "I actually _was _approached by a modeling agency once, as a teenager. I wanted to do it, but my dad urged me to pursue my education instead. He said it would be a crime to let my mind go to waste." She shrugged. "So I listened to him."

Veronica glanced at her dad's closed office door rather guiltily. _Meanwhile, _my_ dad thinks it would be a waste to let my mind go to crime._ She looked back towards Rose. "He must have been very proud of you," she smiled. "Was he in the scientific field as well?"

"No, he was a janitor."

Veronica considered that, trying to think of the most delicate way to pose her next question. "So if your father was a janitor and your mom works as a waitress, I'm just wondering-"

"How they could afford to adopt me in the first place?" Rose surmised.

"Well… yeah," Veronica confirmed.

"My dad used to be a contractor," she explained. "One of his employees got into an accident on the job and lost his leg. His family sued and took everything we had." Her expression soured. "That's why my mom left, I think. Before that, she didn't have to work. We had a nice house, a pool…"

Veronica nodded. _This sounds familiar._ "Got it," she replied. "Well, I've got your number and I'll be in touch."

"Thanks, Veronica." Rose smiled. "I can't wait to hear what you find out." She made her way towards the door.

Veronica hesitated. When her client's hand was on the doorknob, she spoke up. "Listen, Rose… Try not to get your hopes up too much, okay? Private adoptions can be tricky. And even if we do find out who your mother is, she may not be willing to speak with you."

Rose nodded. "I know. But it's worth a shot, right?"

_Not always._ Veronica nodded, forcing a smile, and Rose shut the door behind her.

**A/N Thanks for reading. Please review :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Big thanks to those who reviewed/followed/favorited the first chapter :) This one will be relatively short, probably no more than eight chapters or so. I'm approaching it as though it's a missing episode, so the characters and case should (hopefully) feel pretty true to the spirit of the show.**

Chapter 2

Veronica had intended to tell her father about their new client as soon as he was done meeting with Charles Bentley. But, to her surprise, the two of them had left the office together. He still hadn't returned when she'd departed Mars Investigations around noon.

By the time he got home, later that evening, she'd begun to reconsider her stance. Her dad had only recently begun to accept her help with his business again. _But that was before my most recent brush with death._ _I'm not so sure he'll be on board with me working a case solo._

Before she'd definitively decided whether to tell him about Rose or not, Keith came walking through the front door. He set his briefcase down and removed his suit jacket, lifting up his chin and sniffing at the air. "Is that the odor of cooking pot roast I detect?"

"It is," Veronica confirmed. "It'll be ready in about ten minutes."

"Best kid ever." Keith smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

"Eh, I have my moments." She replaced the cover on the metal pot on the stove, setting a spoon down on the counter. "Mashed potatoes are in here. Peas are ready to go in the microwave. Just zap them for five minutes when you're ready."

"I think I can handle that," Keith replied. "Where are you off to, looking so fancy?"

Veronica made a face, glancing down at her jeans and t-shirt doubtfully. "Fancy?"

"You've put on makeup and changed your hair, since I saw you last."

"Proving, once again, that you're the best PI in town," Veronica teased. "Although Vinnie isn't much competition, let's be honest."

He continued to stare at her, awaiting a reply to his original question, and she rolled her eyes. "I'm meeting Logan for dinner," she informed him.

Keith Mars had one of the best poker faces out there, but Veronica knew all of his tells. The slight wrinkling of his forehead and an almost imperceptible drop in his shoulders gave him away instantly. Her father wasn't happy that they were dating again. _Or whatever it is that Logan and I are doing._

"So you two are… back together?" he asked.

"I don't know. I guess." She shrugged nonchalantly, but his disapproval stung. Her dad had never quite understood her relationship with Logan_. I guess I can't blame him. I'm not so sure I understand it myself._

Veronica glanced down at her watch, making a snap decision. "Look, Dad, there's something I want to tell you."

"Should I pour myself a drink first?" he asked wryly.

"Don't worry," she returned. "I'm not moving into Logan's suite at the Grand just yet."

"Yet?"

Veronica ignored him. "A woman came into the office today, while you were busy. She thinks she's adopted, and she's looking for her birth mom. And I'd like to be the one who works with her."

Keith didn't bother to hide his reaction, this time. He took a seat at the island, facing his daughter with tired eyes. "It's not that I don't appreciate the offer to help, sweetheart. You know I do. But I want you to focus on your paying job, okay?"

"My paying job just cut my hours in half," she informed him. "And you have more work than you can handle, right now."

"What about getting ready for college?" he questioned. "Or, here's a whacky notion: actually just being a carefree teenager, for once? Spending time with your friends at the beach, like-"

"Like a _normal _girl?" she interrupted, her tone harsher than she'd intended.

"That's not what I meant," he replied softly.

"I'm sorry, but I don't do carefree anymore," she said, meeting his eyes. _Not after everything I've seen._

Keith stood up and walked around the island, placing his hands on her shoulders gently. "Veronica, honey, less than a month ago you were held at gunpoint by one of your classmates. A boy who was responsible for killing _fourteen_ people. You've got to understand my hesitation."

_And he doesn't even know the full story. If he did, he'd never let me leave the house._ "Dad," Veronica implored. "I _need_ to do this. Okay? I need a- a project."

What she really meant was that she needed a distraction, and they both knew it. Keith dropped his hands from her shoulders, looking defeated. "If you swear, on Backup, that you'll be careful," he began, "and that if there's even a _hint_ of danger-"

"I swear," she promised quickly. "And I'll tell you immediately."

"You'd better," he warned. "Alright, go have fun on your date. And don't forget to casually remind Logan that I have a carry permit." Keith smirked at his own joke and started heading towards his bedroom. "I've got to go change."

Veronica watched him walk away, her brow furrowing. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"The case _you're _working on… Is it dangerous?"

Keith smiled reassuringly. "Nothing your old man can't handle."

His smile was too long, too wide. Veronica knew he was lying. But she smiled back. _Lying is how we protect each other, in this family. Because, sometimes, the truth is too horrible to stomach._

**xxXxx**

Veronica kicked at a pebble, watching it skittle across the parking lot and disappear beneath a van. She glanced towards the main road, on the lookout for Logan's familiar yellow X-Terra. Instead, a black Range Rover pulled into the lot. She was about to ignore it when she caught sight of Logan's profile through the open window.

She smiled, walking forward to greet him. "Snazzy," she said, eyeing his brand new SUV appreciatively.

"Why, thank you," he replied. "It's a new shirt."

"I was talking about the car."

"Sure you were," he said with a grin.

Veronica leaned her head through the window, kissing him on the lips. "Hi."

"Hey." Logan reached out his hand, running his thumb softly down her cheek. "I missed you."

"And I… missed you too," she returned, a bit surprised by how much she actually meant it. They'd only been back together for two weeks. _One of which I spent three thousand miles away from him._ But, in many ways, they seemed to be picking up right where they'd left off before their breakup, the previous summer.

They stood staring at each other just long enough for her to start feeling self-conscious about it. Veronica made her way around the front of his car and climbed into the passenger seat. As soon as the door closed behind her, they reached for one another. Their kisses were urgent, almost desperate, at first. Once sated, they became tender and languid.

With their foreheads pressed together, Logan smiled. "I guess you really did miss me, huh?"

"Maybe," she admitted grudgingly.

He grinned, kissing the tip of her nose before retreating back to the driver's seat. Veronica tried to distract herself from how hard her heart was beating by buckling her seatbelt. When she looked up, Logan was watching her.

"So, where are we headed?" she asked.

"Now _that's_ a loaded question," he teased. "Maybe we should get some pizza before we try and tackle that one."

"Pizza does seem like the safer choice," she agreed. "Let's go to Martio's."

Veronica leaned back in her seat, expecting him to drive away. When Logan didn't make any move to leave she glanced at him curiously. He was looking out of the driver's side window. _At the door to our apartment. _

"Uh, Logan?" she urged, starting to feel unsettled.

"Why'd you come down to meet me?" he asked, turning back to face her. "I would have come up."

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Just needed some fresh air."

Logan studied her face for half a minute, nodding his head like he'd just gotten the punchline to a joke. "You haven't told your dad that we're hanging out again, have you," he stated flatly.

"No, he knows," she disputed. At his look of disbelief, she became more insistent. "Logan, he _knows_."

"But he isn't crazy about the idea."

"What? He's fine."

Logan didn't say anything, but his eyes strayed back up to the apartment door. After a few seconds, he sighed and put the car in drive.

**xxXxx**

"_Four_ slices?"

"What?" Veronica asked innocently, dropping another piece of pizza onto her plate. "I'm sort of hungry, what can I say?"

"If that's sort of hungry, I'd like a film crew here to document_ really_ hungry." Logan smirked. "So much for having leftovers."

"You live in a hotel," Veronica reminded him. "You can get nowovers whenever you want."

"Not when_ever_ I want," Logan disputed. "The kitchen closes at midnight."

Veronica wasn't convinced. "I distinctly recall you and Duncan ordering food well past midnight. On more than a few occasions."

"Yes," Logan confirmed, stealing a pepperoni off of her pizza. "Duncan Kane, prince of Neptune, wasn't bound to the same culinary restrictions as the rest of us."

"How dare they?" Veronica asked in mock horror, pulling her slice out of his reach. "You're an _Echolls_." She smacked the palm of her hand on the tabletop. "Don't these lowly peons at the Grand know who they're dealing with?"

"They know, all right," Logan muttered. "And if they didn't know before, my dad's dramatic final exit scene in their hotel ought to remind them."

Veronica set her slice back down on her plate, her appetite disappearing rapidly. Someone from the Sheriff's Department had leaked the photos of the Aaron Echolls crime scene online already. She'd gotten an unexpected eyeful just the other day, as she'd been searching for information on the investigation. It had been a ghastly sight. _I just hope Logan hasn't seen it, and never does._

"Sorry," Logan mumbled. "I don't know why I just brought that up."

"Why are you apologizing?" Veronica asked. She reached across the table, placing her hand on his. "If… if you want to talk about it-"

"I don't," he said quickly, giving her a humorless smile. "And you don't either." Logan squeezed her hand. "You ready to get out of here?"

She nodded, and he gestured for the check.

**xxXxx**

Veronica didn't want to leave things between them on such a gloomy note. So when Logan asked her if she needed to get home, she shook her head no.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"How about the beach?" she proposed.

Logan smiled; he knew which beach she meant. Wordlessly, he made a left out of the parking lot and headed down the road.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, she turned to look at him. "Hey, do you know what the term is for someone who has six fingers?"

"Um, circus freak?"

"Polydactyl," she corrected. "I had a client today who was born with six fingers on her left hand."

"Do you always begin conversations this way?" he replied instantly.

Veronica grinned; Logan was the only person she knew whose pop culture knowledge was on par with her own. Before she could continue, he spoke again. "Wait, what do you mean client?" he questioned. "I thought you were just helping your dad out with some paperwork?"

She pointed up ahead of them. "Don't miss the turn," she warned. "It's coming up."

"I know where the turn is," Logan remarked dryly. "I've been here once or twice. Don't change the subject."

He made a right onto an unmarked road. The tangy scent of ocean air wafted through Veronica's open window, and broken seashells crunched beneath Logan's tires. When they reached a wide, sandy opening, Logan pulled the car up to the guard rail and shut off the engine. He turned to look at her, and she stared back at him.

"What?" she asked, growing annoyed.

"You said you were helping your dad get organized," he pointed out.

"I was. And now I'm working on a case."

"And your dad's okay with this?"

"Yes," she said defensively. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?" Logan returned. "I was _there_, Veronica. You can't bullshit me. I know how bad it was."

She didn't reply.

Logan fiddled with his keychain, still swinging gently from his ignition. It was a miniature surfboard Lilly had bought him years ago on a roadtrip, now so scuffed up that the paint was almost entirely gone. "Does your dad even know?"

Veronica stared at him, unsure what he was really asking. Deciding it was safer not to inquire, she sat up straighter. "He knows, and he's fine with it. So why aren't you?"

"Excuse me if I'm not clamoring to find you in another death defying showdown with a psycho," he said quietly. Logan's eyes were cast downward, his fingers now wrapped around the bottom of his steering wheel tightly.

_He's really worried_, Veronica realized. Her anger dissipated slightly. "I didn't know Beaver was going to be up on that roof," she reminded him. "He texted me from Mac's phone."

Logan continued to look down, but he nodded slightly. "I know. But you knew he was at the hotel that night. And you knew he was dangerous." He turned his head, finally facing her. "I was right downstairs. I would have come with you."

"We weren't even together yet," she reminded him.

He sighed. "Well, we are now. Please just remember that."

"So I'm supposed to, what, check in with you before every move I make?" she asked lightly. "Does that include meal choices, television viewing, wardrobe selections?"

"Definitely yes, to that last one," Logan confirmed, cocking an eyebrow. He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned towards her, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Veronica, I know how capable you are. It's one of the things that I-" He paused. "That I appreciate about you. But I do worry. I'm not going to lie."

Veronica eyed him with surprise. His honesty was unnerving her. _And was he about to say what I think he was?_ Logan's hand dropped down to hers, and she looked at their interlocked fingers thoughtfully.

"The case is just a routine search," she informed him. "It's not a big deal. But if it'll make you feel better, I guess I can… keep you in the loop, from now on. Okay?"

Logan brought her hand up to his, kissing her knuckles. "I just want you to be safe."

"I will," she promised.

Logan let go of her hand and removed his keys from the ignition. Veronica unbuckled her seatbelt and they both stepped out of the car. They'd parked in the rarely used back lot, because the local deputies never bothered to patrol the spot. It required a longer walk to the beach, but Veronica didn't mind. It was a mild evening, and an almost full moon lit the way.

When they got close to the shore, just above the line of the tide, Logan removed his jacket and laid it down on the sand. He and Veronica sat down atop it, and Logan placed his arm around her shoulders.

After several minutes of silence, she glanced up at him and he turned his head towards her. Veronica's gaze shifted from one of his eyes to the other, and she exhaled heavily. "Are we insane? For trying this again?"

"Well _you're_ certifiable. We know that for a fact."

"I'm serious, Logan."

He lifted his arm off of her shoulders, dropping it to his side, but continued to face her. "Are we?" he questioned. "Trying this again?"

Veronica leaned back on her hands, momentarily closing her eyes as she considered the question. Logan played a starring role in so many of her memories. _And he's played the villain almost as much as he's played the hero._ Yet, in spite of that fact, there was only one memory she could currently summon: Logan refusing to leave her side, the night she'd thought her father had been killed.

When she reopened her eyes, he was still watching her. Veronica shrugged. "Screw it. Let's be insane."

Logan's lips widened into a smile, and he moved towards her. She sat up straight, holding up her palm to halt his progress. "But I think we should take this slow," she amended.

"I can do slow," he agreed. He dropped a kiss on her forehead and began to move away.

Veronica put her hand on his arm. "I didn't mean _that_ slow," she teased. "I think we can get slightly more erotic than forehead kissing."

"I see. So lips are sanctioned?"

She tilted her chin up, kissing him lightly on the lips. "Yes."

Logan shifted so that he was facing her, drawing her closer and wrapping his arms around her. "And how about necks?" he murmured into her ear. Without waiting for a response, he placed a soft kiss just below her earlobe.

"Mmmm… okay. But this doesn't feel slow."

He continued to trail kisses down the side of her neck, with excruciatingly calm precision. "I'm going… as slow… as I possibly… can."

"I wasn't talking about speed," Veronica retorted.

Logan kissed the spot just above her collarbone, before lifting his head up to meet her eyes. "Shame," he grinned. But then he squeezed her hand, a silent reminder that he'd gotten the message and he understood.

Veronica trusted him not to cross any lines that she wasn't ready for him to cross. _We've been through this before. And he knows what Beaver did to me._

Wordlessly, Logan moved to sit behind her, enfolding her into his arms. Veronica relaxed against him, taking comfort in his warmth. His body was stronger now, more solid. Something about that made her a little sad. Logan had been through a lot, in the year they'd been apart. It had forced him to grow harder, tougher._ To grow up._

She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the melody of the tides.

**A/N Thanks for reading. Please review :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Thank you again for all of the reviews, faves & follows. I know a lot of us are still reeling from that Incident Which Shall Not be Named, so I thought some may want to take comfort in fic today. Be well, Marshmallows. I hope you're enjoying this little slice of life Neptune story. Love you all.**

Chapter 3

Veronica awoke early the next morning, feeling refreshed and eager to tackle her new case. She showered and dressed quickly, then headed into the kitchen to review her notes.

Two large mugs of coffee and an English muffin later, her optimism had begun to fade. Her initial computer search had uncovered very little. Aside from a few unpaid parking tickets and an old possession charge, Deirdre D'Angelo wasn't giving her much of a trail to follow.

Veronica glanced at the clock. It was a bit early for a phone call, but Rose hadn't been able to provide her with an email address for her mom. Thinking the early hour may actually benefit her, by potentially catching Deirdre off guard, Veronica dialed the number on her notepad.

An automated message chimed in her ear, informing her that the number had been disconnected. Veronica ended the call with a sigh, setting her phone down on the countertop as she stared at her computer screen. A few moments later, she had a new plan. _It's the only option left._

Veronica picked up her phone to call Logan. It wasn't until his phone went right to voice mail that she remembered that he was already on a plane, heading up to L.A. He and Trina were meeting with the law firm in charge of settling Aaron's estate, and he'd be gone all day.

She hung up without leaving a message and scrolled quickly through her contacts. When she reached "W", she smiled.

Wallace answered after five rings, his voice muffled. "This better be an emergency."

"Good morning, bestie," Veronica greeted him enthusiastically. "Feel like a road trip?"

**xxXxx**

It didn't take Veronica long to pack, but her father was already up and dressed when she reentered the living room with her duffel bag. She deposited it on the couch and turned toward him. "Morning."

"Yes it is," Keith replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He nodded towards the duffel bag. "Aren't you a little old for summer camp?"

"Don't be silly," Veronica scoffed. "No one's _ever_ too old for campfire songs and lanyard making."

"Strange, I was just thinking I could use a new lanyard," Keith returned dryly. "Seriously, where are you really off to?"

"Vegas, baby!" Veronica replied, placing her messenger bag beside the duffel. "Want me to put twenty bucks on black for you?"

"First let's rewind and discuss why, exactly, you're going to Vegas?" he suggested.

Veronica mimed pumping a shotgun. "Gettin' hitched, Paw," she informed him. Trying not to laugh at her father's unamused expression, she placed both hands on her hips. "What?" she asked innocently. "Logan's a big Elvis fan."

"First off," Keith began, "the word 'hitched' shouldn't be in your vocabulary. As in 'getting' or 'a ride'. Second, there are some subjects that even _we_ shouldn't joke about. A shotgun wedding to Logan Echolls at an Elvis Chapel just happens to be one of them."

"And here I thought nothing was off limits," she retorted. "Well, would it freak you out any _less_ if I told you I was actually going there with Wallace?"

"Considerably," he conceded. "Unless you've suddenly developed romantic feelings for him."

"Um, no," Veronica said. "I believe _you're_ the Mars with fuzzy Fennel feelings, not me." She glanced up to see his reaction to her reference to Alicia, but Keith didn't take the bait.

"Very funny," he replied, calmly sipping his coffee. "So I see we've completely dropped the pretense that you still need to ask my permission for anything, these days. But the next time you're planning on leaving the state for an indeterminate amount of time, can I at least get a post-it note?"

"Says the guy who left his only daughter to fend for herself for three days, in the biggest city in the country," she pointed out.

"I'm going to pay for that until the day I die, aren't I."

"Yup," Veronica confirmed. "But, in spite of your abandonment, I _was_ still planning on asking you before I left." She gestured toward the duffel bag. "That was preemptive packing. Would you like to hear my itinerary?"

"I'd love to."

"The plan is for Wallace and I to head out to Vegas this morning, so I can speak to our client's mother. I already left her name and address on the fridge for you. I'll be gone two nights, tops, and I'll call you as soon as we arrive with our hotel info." She smiled beatifically. "And the only thing I'm going to hitch will be my dreams, to a rising star."

Keith nodded his head appreciatively, placated by her full disclosure. He looked down at his watch. "Do you need to leave right now?"

"Not _right_ now, but soon. Why?"

"Because I have something that may come in handy on your road trip," he informed her.

"What is it?"

"A surprise," he grinned. "C'mon. Let's go for a ride."

**xxXxx**

The _something _ended up being a brand new car. It was a silver Saturn VUE, a hybrid SUV. Veronica's eyes shifted from the car and back to her father a half dozen times in amazement, rendered speechless for one of the few times in her life.

"So," Keith began with a grin. "Do you accept my apology, for New York?"

She touched the metallic paint hesitantly, needing physical confirmation that it was real. This was, by far, the nicest thing she'd ever possessed. "Um, _yes_," Veronica confirmed decisively, giving her father an enormous hug. "But how can we possibly afford this?"

"You let me worry about that," he replied cryptically. It was all he'd say on the matter.

Veronica was certain the money for the car had come from her dad's new case. Even as she signed the paperwork and took possession of her new keys, part of her focus remained on the mystery, trying to solve the puzzle. Her mind was swirling with questions. But before she had the chance to really grill him, her dad kissed her goodbye and left for the office.

**xxXxx**

Wallace's reaction to the car was almost as enthusiastic as Veronica's. As soon as she pulled up to his house to pick him up he raced over to check it out, insisting she pop the hood and asking her oodles of technical questions she didn't have answers for.

"Don't you at least know how much horsepower it's got?" he asked exasperatedly. "What _do_ you know about it?"

Veronica twirled a strand of hair around her index finger, affecting a confused expression. "Um, it's silver?"

Wallace rolled his eyes at her, tossing his bag into the back seat and jumping into the car. "You know, I'm starting to wonder if that girlie-girl act of yours is really an act."

"Hey, man, cut me some slack," Veronica requested, reverting back to her normal voice. "I've only owned her for about five seconds. We barely know each other yet." She reached in front of him to open the glove box, tossing the user manual into his lap. "Here. Knock yourself out."

Wallace spent the next fifty miles or so explaining various features to her and pre-setting her radio to the good stations. Just as they were growing bored of that, Veronica's phone rang. It was Logan. She glanced around quickly to see if there were any cops around before bringing the phone up to her ear.

"What's up, L.A. man?" she greeted him.

"That's 'confidential'," Logan replied.

"Well done."

"I just landed and saw you called," he said. "Everything okay?"

"Yup. Just keeping my promise of full disclosure. I'm heading to Vegas, to talk to my client's mom."

"Alone?" he asked quickly.

"No," she answered patiently. "I'm with Wallace."

"Good," Logan stated. "You're heading back tomorrow?"

"Probably. Maybe the next day," Veronica told him. "Hey, I've got something to show you, when I see you."

"Does it involve lace?" he questioned playfully.

"I'm hanging up now."

"Tease. Call me later?"

"Alright," she agreed. "Good luck with Dewey, Cheatem and Howe."

"Thanks. But I'm pretty sure Dad left everything to Trina. It's not like I want it anyway."

Veronica picked up on the forlorn note in his voice, and she suddenly wished she was by his side. When she'd offered to accompany him to L.A. he'd declined, insisting that it was unimportant legal stuff. _But it can't be easy for him to have to go through this. Again._

"Well, look on the bright side," she reasoned. "At least she'll stop hitting you up for cash."

"Right," he snorted. "Until she blows it all, in about six months." Logan paused. "Hey, at least it's good to know that you're not dating me for my money."

"Ha! That's what you think. It's _alway_s been all about the Benjamins, baby."

Wallace shot her a look, and Logan groaned. "Alright, now _I'm_ the one who's hanging up," he informed her. "Talk to you later."

"Bye." Veronica hung up the phone and placed it back in the empty drink holder beside her. Wallace was still looking at her askance from the passenger seat. "I know, I know. If P. Diddy were dead, he'd be rolling in his grave."

"Nah, that's not it."

Veronica sighed. "Yes," she confirmed. "Logan and I are dating again."

"Hey, I didn't ask," Wallace told her, holding up his hands. "I didn't _need_ to ask. The giggling gave you away."

"I didn't _giggle_," she retorted.

"Sure you didn't," he laughed. "So how'd you get this ride, anyway? Extortion?"

"In a sense," Veronica replied. "My dad felt guilty about New York."

Wallace glanced around the car skeptically. "When my mom feels guilty I get some sort of baked good. I was born into the wrong family."

"Yeah, we're the Roosevelts," she scoffed.

"So how'd he pull this off?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure."

Veronica fell silent for several moments, becoming preoccupied once again with her father's clandestine case. She'd long suspected that it had all begun with Kendall's unexpected visit to Mars Investigations, just before she and her dad were supposed to leave for New York. _But what could she have offered him? What would have motivated Dad to stay?_

_Money, _she considered._ A lot of money. Which would explain how he could afford to buy me this car. But Kendall's broke. Cassidy's death was ruled a suicide, so she didn't get a dime from his life insurance policy. Did she have something tucked away? A nest egg from an old con, something she was saving for a rainy day?_

Veronica frowned. That wasn't likely; especially considering how Duncan and Logan had both mentioned that Kendall had attempted to hit them up for cash. _Logan said she even tried to get him to invest in some real estate, once..._

"Okay, you haven't blinked in, like, a minute and a half," Wallace observed. "I'm starting to get creeped out over here."

Veronica tilted her head at him, keeping her eyes wide. "Don't you just _love_ how isolated the desert is, Wallace?"

"Knock it off, Psycho Barbie," he laughed, swatting her on the arm. "And just for that, you're buying me lunch."

**xxXxx**

"When you said road trip to Vegas, I _assumed_ we'd be doing this in style," Wallace remarked, eyeing their room dejectedly. "As in, Executive Suite at the Bellagio?"

"Pardon me, your highness. I didn't realize that was written into your contract," Veronica replied.

"Well check the fine print next time," Wallace admonished. "Because Motel Vegas here isn't exactly what I had in mind."

"Next time we'll do Caesar's," Veronica promised, dropping her duffel bag onto one of the beds. "I know you like the big cats."

"Now we're talking," he said with a grin.

Wallace set his bag down on the other bed and wandered around the room checking things out, while Veronica headed into the bathroom to freshen up. She didn't need to look around. Between stakeouts and family vacations, she'd seen enough cheap motels to last her a lifetime.

"There are no batteries in the remote," Wallace called from the other room. "And I'm pretty sure this is a lamp we donated to Goodwill a few years ago."

"Hey, I'm on a budget here," she reminded him, regarding her reflection in the mirror critically. She reached into her bag, pulling out a few items that would help her look more like a professional and less like a recent high school graduate. "Besides," she added. "We're not going to be spending a lot of time in the room."

"Well that's a relief." Wallace's voice was louder; he was just outside the bathroom. She watched him in the mirror, as he poked his head into the closet curiously. "Hey, how come you didn't invite Mac?"

"I did," Veronica responded, applying a fresh coat of lip gloss. "I called her right after I spoke to you." She finger-combed her hair, securing it into a twist with a few bobby pins, and tried on a pair of wire-framed glasses. Satisfied, she turned to face her friend. "But she said she wasn't up to it."

Wallace nodded, his expression growing somber. He was one of only a handful of people who knew what Mac had been through, on graduation night. "I can't say I blame her," he said softly. "Being lied to and abandoned by someone you-" He broke off abruptly.

Veronica knew he was thinking about Jackie. Wallace shrugged it off any time her name came up, pointing out that what Mac and Veronica were dealing with was way worse. But Veronica was sure Jackie's betrayal had hurt him deeply.

She placed a hand on his arm; a silent gesture of understanding. "C'mon," she urged. "The sooner we talk to my client's mother, the sooner we can hit the town."

Wallace smiled, reverting back easily to his naturally cheerful state, and they headed for the door.

**xxXxx**

Deirdre D'Angelo was only forty-five years old, but she looked at least a decade older. Her skin was tan and cracked, her teeth were heavily stained and her blonde hair was coarse and limp. _She looks like something left in the oven too long._ _Wrinkled, dried out._

Yet she'd agreed to speak with them, despite their unannounced visit. She'd even offered them something to drink before ushering them out onto the patio. "My aunt's asleep," she explained, coughing hoarsely before taking a seat on a white wicker chair. "She's in poor health."

Veronica and Wallace glanced at one another. Deirdre was clearly in poor health as well, but neither one of them was about to comment on that fact. "Ms. D'Angelo-" Veronica began, opening up her notepad and poising her pen over a fresh page.

"Call me Dee."

"Okay," Veronica agreed, forcing a smile. "Dee. Your daughter Rose has hired me because she believes she's adopted. I know this is a sensitive topic, but I came here to ask you if she's correct. _Was _she adopted?"

To Veronica's surprise, Dee smiled. She looked down, shaking her head slowly from side to side. "That girl," she said fondly. "She don't miss a trick, that one." Dee stood up. "Wait here," she instructed.

Dee stepped back into the house. As soon as the door closed behind her, Wallace spoke up. "So…that was easy."

"Uh, yeah," Veronica agreed, staring at the door.

She wasn't sure why she was so taken aback by Dee's easy admission. The woman bore absolutely no resemblance to Rose; it made sense that they weren't related. _I guess I've gotten a little too used to things turning out badly. Most people do whatever they have to, to protect their darkest secrets. Lie, blackmail, threaten. This is kind of… refreshing._

Dee reappeared quickly. Before she took her seat, she placed an item in Veronica's open hand. Veronica looked down. It was a bracelet, silver with alternating blue stones. When she studied it closer, she saw that each silver bead was etched with a letter. It spelled out the name "Eliza". She glanced at Dee curiously, waiting for her to explain.

"It was a private adoption," Dee confirmed. "So we never met the mother. Frank was real specific about that. He asked the lawyer about a hundred times if she'd still be ours, if someone came looking for her one day." She chucked softly. "He fell in love with that child the moment he laid eyes on her."

"What did the lawyer say?" Veronica asked, steering her back on track.

"He told us not to worry. The mother signed all the paperwork saying she didn't get to know where Rosie ended up. He never mentioned the father. I don't think he was in the picture."

Veronica held up the bracelet. "And this?"

"She left it with the lawyer," Dee replied. "Asked us to give it to Rosie, when she turned eighteen."

"Did you?" Veronica prompted.

"No," Dee admitted. "I was already gone by then. And Frank…" She trailed off, looking into the distance.

Veronica cleared her throat, attempting to reclaim her attention. When Dee looked back at her, she continued. "Can I ask why you've never told her?"

"Rosie don't want much to do with me, these days," Dee said frankly. "Not since I left. Guess I figured if she knew the truth… she'd have one more reason to hate me."

It was Veronica's turn to look away. The subject matter was hitting a little closer to home than she cared for. It was becoming more and more difficult to remain impartial. Determined to stay professional, she kept her questioning formal and detached.

"When did the adoption take place?" she asked.

"March 14, 1984."

"Do you remember the name of the lawyer?"

Dee frowned, the wrinkles on her forehead deepening. "Symmons? No. _Fitz_simmons," she corrected herself.

"And his or her first name?"

"Michael?" she guessed. "Or maybe Matthew? It was an 'M' name, I think."

"Where was the practice?"

"Right here in Las Vegas."

Veronica nodded, pleased to hear that. _I may be able to do a little more digging, while I'm here._ She paused in her interrogation, jotting all of the information she'd learned down on her notepad before looking up. "Is there anything else you can tell me?" she pressed. "Anything you remember, or something that may help?"

Dee nodded towards the bracelet. "Just that the bracelet ain't worth nothing," she informed Veronica. "I tried to pawn it once, when I was down on my luck. Thought maybe those were sapphires." She scratched at a patch of skin on her arm. "You gonna see Rosie soon?"

"Yes," Veronica confirmed. "As soon as I have some answers for her."

"Why don't you go ahead and pass that along. I should have given it to her a long time ago."

Veronica nodded. She closed her notepad and stood up, slipping the bracelet into her pocket for safekeeping. Dee and Wallace got up as well, and Veronica settled her purse strap onto her shoulder. "Well, thank you for your time," she said. "I won't keep you any longer."

"Feels sort of good to come clean," Dee remarked, looking thoughtful. "But Frank will probably never forgive me for letting the cat out of the bag."

Veronica paused, glancing from Dee to Wallace and back. "Um, when was the last time you spoke to Rose?" she asked cautiously.

"Oh, it's been a few months now. Maybe back in February?"

Veronica took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but your ex-husband, Frank… he passed away."

Dee stared at her, mouth dropped open and eyes filling with tears. And then she began to sob.

**A/N Thanks for reading! Please review :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Tell me something," Wallace instructed, eyeing Veronica across the small round table. "Do you even know what the words 'road trip' _mean_? Because breaking the news about someone's death to a stranger and watching you mess around on your laptop all day isn't really what I had in mind."

"Hey, I already told you. I had no idea she didn't know," Veronica replied defensively. "And, for your information…" She opened a new browser window and typed rapidly. Smirking, she quoted, "According to Wikipedia, a road trip is 'a journey taken on roads'. Did we not journey via _roads_?"

Wallace rolled his eyes. "Yeah. And since we got here, tell me one fun thing that we've done."

"I took you to Paris, didn't I?" she asked, gesturing to the artificial sky above them.

Wallace crossed his arms over his chest, clearly not mollified.

Veronica bookmarked the page she was on and shut her laptop. "No, no, you're right," she agreed. "I'm a sucky tour guide." She curled her index finger beneath her chin, pretending to think. "Okay, I'll tell you what. Your extensive knowledge of road trips _clearly_ makes you the expert on this. So how about you plan out the rest of our day?"

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely," she replied. "Just let me cancel our six o'clock massages at the Luxor, real quick." Veronica pulled her phone out of her pocket.

"Massages?" he repeated doubtfully.

"Deep tissue for you and hot stone for me," Veronica confirmed.

Wallace grinned. "Now _that's_ more like it." He clapped his hands together, rubbing them back and forth rapidly. "Let the pampering commence."

"So you approve?"

"Most definitely. But how'd you even afford that? I thought we were on a budget."

"Well… I _may_ have made a quick pit stop into the poker room, while you were playing slots." Veronica smiled sweetly, before affecting a high-pitched voice and pouting in confusion. "Wait, so a full house is better than a pair, right?"

Wallace laughed, slapping her high five. "That's my girl."

**xxXxx**

Veronica made a solemn vow to Wallace that she wouldn't work on the case for the rest of the night. True to her word, her laptop remained stowed in her bag. Still, it was impossible not to at least _think_ about what she'd discovered. The bracelet, in particular, was a baffling clue.

_Is Eliza the name of her birth mother, or the name her birth mother gave her? And why was Rose's birth mother so keen on giving her the bracelet? If it's not worth anything, it must have sentimental value. Which is a good sign, I guess. If I find her, she may be more likely to meet with Rose… _

"You carry a lot of tension in your shoulders," her masseuse observed.

"Yeah," Veronica agreed.

She felt warmth radiating through her skin as the masseuse placed another stone on her upper back. She and Lilly used to get massages all of the time; she realized with a start that she hadn't done this since the week before her friend died.

"Try to relax; your muscles are very tight."

"Sorry," she mumbled. Veronica exhaled and closed her eyes, attempting to push all thoughts of Lilly and Rose to the recesses of her mind.

**xxXxx**

The massage did the trick, finally enabling Veronica to unwind. For the first time in months, she stopped dwelling on haunted memories from her past or worrying about the crushing pressures of her future. Instead, she stayed focused on the present for the remainder of the night, giving in to the sparkling vitality of Las Vegas.

For a few hours, she really was a carefree teenager again. She sprang for dinner at Delmonico Steakhouse, ogling in admiration as Wallace made short work of a 32oz porterhouse. They bet on harness racing at the Excalibur, laughing as they pulled numbers for exactas and trifectas out of thin air and chose horses based on names they liked. They took a stroll down the strip, watching sprays of water dance in front of the Bellagio in sync with the music.

By the time they got back to the motel it was after midnight, but Veronica was wide awake. While Wallace got changed, she stepped out onto the balcony to call Logan. She wasn't surprised when he answered on the second ring; he'd always been a night owl.

"There you are," he greeted.

"Hey. I saw you called earlier but I couldn't really talk," she explained. "Not much privacy on a casino floor."

"I thought you got nabbed for counting cards," he teased.

"Nope, I took their money fair and square," she assured him. "No need to cheat when you've got skills like mine."

"Yes, I seem to recall something about you being moderately good at poker," Logan remarked.

"Moderately? I wiped the floor with you!"

"Maybe I let you win?"

"Nice try, Echolls. You still hated me back then, remember?"

"Mmm, hated is a strong word." Logan paused. "The way you were walking around the table, that night, calling everyone out on their bullshit? It was sexy as hell."

Veronica smiled into the phone. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. So did you have fun tonight?"

"I did. Even _if_ Wallace had to shame me into it," she conceded. "How'd things go in L.A.?"

"'And to my loving son, Logan, I hereby bequeath half of my net worth'," he quoted theatrically. After a brief pause, he continued. "Loving son," he repeated, his tone caustic. "Hey, at least he had a sense of humor."

"So he split the money between you and Trina?" she asked gently.

"Yup," he confirmed. "Fifty-fifty. They're working out some kind of trust fund for me, of course. A monthly allowance until I turn twenty-one. I don't know, I sort of tuned that part out. But Trina will get her half as soon as the ink dries."

"I look forward to the Facebook updates from Ibiza."

"She was leaving an anonymous tip with the National Instigator before we'd even left the building."

"Hey, at least she's consistent."

"Yup, typical Echolls. Always swinging somewhere on the pendulum between infamy and oblivion." Logan's voice was thick with disgust, and something far too close to self-loathing for Veronica's peace of mind. "I think she was pissed that she didn't get any extras, like I did," he added. "She barely said goodbye to me."

"What kind of extras?"

"The old man threw in a couple of parting gifts just for me. A humidor, some movie memorabilia, stuff like that."

"A humidor?" she asked confusedly. "Like, for cigars?"

"Kind of a private joke. A middle finger from beyond the grave."

Veronica took a seat on the dingy cement steps, trying not to think about the variety of substances that she was likely sitting upon. She leaned her head against the wrought iron railing, the metal cool against her skin. "I'm sorry, Logan."

"I'm just glad it's over."

He could have meant any number of things by that statement, and Veronica wasn't quite sure how to respond. She wished they were having this conversation face to face. She needed to see his eyes, his posture, to gauge her response correctly. Logan had never been easy to read in person; over the phone, he was impossible.

Before she spoke, he continued. "So how's your case going?"

_Changing the subject_, Veronica noted. _A noble and familiar tactic._ Respecting his desire not to discuss his father any longer, she replied, "It's okay. I think we'll be able to leave tomorrow."

"Good," Logan stated. "I miss you. I want to see you."

She smiled into the phone. Logan's guileless candor was back; an aspect of his personality few even knew existed. It was something she hadn't even realized she'd missed until they'd gotten back together. The verbal sparring that had spanned the greater part of their senior year had been entertaining, at times- but it had also been infuriating.

Still, refreshing as it was to know where he stood again, Veronica needed a bit more time before she could get to that place with him. The last time she'd laid herself bare to Logan, she'd been rewarded for her efforts with the brutal realization that he'd just spent the night with another woman. _An image that isn't likely to leave my mind any time soon._

As much as Veronica wanted to tell him that she couldn't wait to see him again either; as much as she wanted to make plans to get together the minute she got back- she balked. "Me too," she finally managed.

"Call me when you get home?" he requested.

"Okay," she agreed. "Night, Logan."

"Sweet dreams."

**xxXxx**

She and Wallace spent the remainder of their evening watching _Happy Days_ on Nick at Nite, because neither one of them wanted to get up to change the channel.

"What did people do before remotes?" Veronica wondered aloud.

When Wallace didn't answer, she glanced over at him. His eyes were closed; a few seconds later, he began to snore softly.

Veronica looked at the clock. It was after three, and she knew she should get some sleep. But all of the thoughts she'd pushed aside for the past few hours were returning in full force, seeking attention like a plaintive-eyed dog at mealtime. She reached for her laptop.

She spent the next hour working diligently, but every path ended in a wall. Her attempt to find a connection between Eliza, Las Vegas and 1984 yielded nothing of use. She searched both well-known and more obscure adoption registries, but no one seemed to be searching for a baby girl with Rose's statistics. Veronica widened the search from Las Vegas to Nevada, and then to California. Still, she found nothing promising.

After a moment of consideration, she decided to approach the case from a different angle. She input "Fitzsimmons Las Vegas Attorney" into her search engine and hit enter. There were dozens of results; it wasn't until she got to the fifth page that she came across a listing for Mark Fitzsimmons. _Dee thought it started with an "M"._ Veronica clicked on the link.

As it turned out, the practice had been closed for several years. Yet a quick search through the P.I database confirmed that Mark Fitzsimmons, former attorney, still resided in Las Vegas. She scribbled his address onto the pad next to the bed and closed her laptop, finally ready to get some sleep.

**xxXxx**

"_Now give me the gun, Veronica."_

"_He killed everyone on the bus! He raped me!"_

"_You are not a killer, Veronica. Give me the gun."_

_Veronica doesn't look at Logan. She keeps the weapon pointed at Beaver. And then she shakes her head. "No."_

_Her index finger curls backward, and a shot echoes across the rooftop._

"No!"

Veronica sat up straight, head turning from right to left as she fought to see what was happening. It was pitch black, and she didn't know where she was or how she'd gotten there. _Did I kill him? Is he really dead?_

There was movement beside her; a hand on her arm. She jumped, attempting to get away.

"Hey, Veronica- it's okay. It's me. It's Wallace."

Warm light flooded the bedroom, as he switched on the lamp between their beds. Her friend's arm was wrapped around her snugly, his eyes full of concern. "I, uh, think you had a nightmare," he said gently.

She nodded, overcome with relief. Her heart was still beating hard, as though she'd just finished a long run on the beach. Wallace got up, returning a moment later with a cool washcloth. She accepted it from him gratefully, placing it on her forehead and closing her eyes.

"Were you dreaming about graduation?" he asked. "About what happened at the Grand?"

"Yeah."

"If you want to talk-"

"I don't," she replied quickly. Veronica placed her hand on his. "But thank you."

Wallace nodded and turned towards the bathroom. He never pushed. It was one of the many things she loved about him.

After a few minutes, Veronica felt much more composed. She deposited the washcloth on the nightstand and glanced at the clock. It was eight o'clock– later than she'd thought. The motel's blackout curtains were performing admirably.

"Hey Wallace?" she called.

"What's up?" He appeared in the doorway, toothbrush in hand.

"If we get out of here in the next half hour, we'll still have time to hit up the breakfast buffet at the Bellagio."

"All you can eat?" he asked.

"Naturally," she confirmed.

"I'll be ready in four minutes."

**xxXxx**

In an odd twist of fate, it turned out that Mark Fitzsimmons currently resided in the same retirement community as Deidre D'Angelo's aunt. It wasn't surprising at all that Dee hadn't been aware of his proximity. The place was so large that it had its own grocery store and shopping centers. It even had its own zip code.

It took them a little while to find the house, even with the address. Veronica's GPS stopped working as they got further away from the city, and they had to rely on passerby for directions. Every house looked nearly identical, and the streets all had similar names, which exacerbated the issue.

"Getting drunk around here can't be easy," Veronica noted.

"You know people gotta be wandering into each other's houses all the time," Wallace agreed with a laugh.

By the time they finally reached the Fitzsimmons residence, the sun had climbed high into the sky and the temperature was rising. The stucco structure was interchangeable with any of the other houses on the block, salmon pink with a red tiled roof. The only thing that distinguished it from the houses on either side of it was the front yard. Instead of grass, it hosted an elaborate array of red and white stones, cacti dotting each spectacular circle.

A middle-aged woman answered the door when they knocked, dressed in teddy bear and heart-covered scrubs. "He's on a fixed income," she said gruffly, before Veronica had even spoken. "I wish you kids would stop coming to this neighborhood for all of your fund-raisers. Every damn day it's something else."

_I see your personality doesn't match the whimsical nature of your clothing, _Veronica thought. She paused for half a minute, rapidly analyzing the situation. She wasn't certain who this woman was, but according to her research Mr. Fitzsimmons was a bachelor. An idea began to form in her mind, but she needed more information before she could pursue it. Veronica smiled sweetly.

"Oh, we're not from the local high school," she explained. "But to be honest, I'm not sure if I have the right house. They all look so similar, and I haven't been here in forever. Does Mark Fitzsimmons live here? If he's home, I'd really love to talk to him."

The woman glanced from Veronica to Wallace, and then back again. "Yeah, he's home," she finally replied. "But you won't have much luck talking to him. He's not, you know, all there in the head, anymore. Now where are you folks from?"

_Damn._ It would have been a long shot, trying to get a lawyer to reveal confidential details about a former case to a stranger. Yet she'd come prepared with a wide variety of tricks up her sleeve, including the possibility of impersonating Rose herself. _Now what? Is it still worth trying? Could mentioning the case jog his memory?_

_New plan._

"I'm Veronica," she replied. "Uncle Mark is my-" she paused, laughing lightly. "Well, my uncle. I'm in town checking out UNLV." Veronica placed one hand on her hip, leaning forward confidentially. "I'm at San Diego State right now, and let me tell you it's _awful_. All anyone wants to do is party, like, all the time. And I'm a serious student, you know? Like, I would _totally love_ to be in the medical field one day. Are you a nurse?"

The woman nodded dazedly. She was staring at Veronica as if she didn't quite know what to make of her, which was exactly the reaction she'd wanted. Veronica continued, unabated.

"I am so jealous. It must be _amazing_ to help people. So anyway, I really want to transfer, you know? Me and Wallace- oh, sorry, this is my friend Wallace- we just got back from the campus, and I started thinking how long it's been since I saw Uncle Mark. He's always been my favorite, between you and me. But you're saying he's gotten worse, huh?" Veronica pushed her lower lip out. "Mom didn't tell me. I guess she didn't want to upset me."

The nurse hesitated. "How long's it been since you've seen him?"

"Oh, probably about… two years?"

"I'd prepare yourself then," she replied. "I've only been working here six months and he's already gone downhill." She opened the door wider, and Veronica's heart skipped a beat. "I'm Barb, by the way."

"Nice to meet you. Thanks so much for letting us in; we won't be long," Veronica promised.

"Well, family is important," Barb said, as she led them down the hall. "And every once in a while, something familiar will jog his memory."

She pushed open a door and Veronica entered the room, followed by a rather unenthusiastic Wallace. She didn't blame him. A very thin, white-haired man lay on an adjustable bed, staring at a television mounted on the opposite wall.

"Mr. Fitzsimmons?" Barb said. She took the remote off the nightstand and muted the volume. "Mr. Fitzsimmons, your niece is here to see you."

He turned his head towards them, squinting his eyes. "Elizabeth?"

"No, I'm-" Veronica stopped and glanced at Barb. "Elizabeth is my older sister," she whispered. "They were always close."

She walked towards the bed and took the old man's hand in hers. "Yes, it's me," she told him. "It's Elizabeth."

He smiled and squeezed her hand gently. Veronica turned back to Barb. The nurse was smiling at her, thinking she was showing her patient a kindness. Veronica quickly turned back towards Mr. Fitzsimmons, feeling a pang in her gut. _This is wrong. This is very, very wrong._ But she'd chosen her path, and now she needed to walk it with confidence.

"And how is your mother, dear?" he asked.

"She's good. I've missed you so much Uncle Mark. I'm sorry it's been so long since I've come for a visit…" Veronica sniffled, summoning tears. When she was sure her eyes were glassy, she looked at Barb. "I... had no idea he was this bad off."

"Sorry, honey," Barb replied, her mouth turning down. "I tried to prepare you, but I know how hard it is. I'll give you two some privacy."

This is what Veronica had been waiting for. She waited a few beats after Barb closed the door, and then she began her interrogation.

"Hey, Uncle Mark? When you were still practicing law, did you ever do stuff with adoptions?"

"Law?" he repeated. "No, I don't think I ever practiced law."

"Yes, you were a lawyer," she said firmly. "For a very long time. Don't you remember?"

"Well I was in the army, of course. And then… yes, I worked at the bakery with Georgie Simmons. Oh, he used to make me laugh…"

Wallace stepped forward, putting his hand on her arm. "Veronica, this is messed up. Let's leave this guy alone, okay?"

"This is the whole reason we're here," she argued. "Rose deserves to know the truth about where she came from. I know what we're doing is a little…unorthodox, but…"

"Un_ethical_, is more like it," he muttered.

But Wallace didn't protest further, and Veronica continued to ask Mr. Fitsimmons questions. It didn't take her long to realize she wasn't going to get anywhere. Just as she was trying to figure out what to do next, she heard the front door closing.

She glanced out the window. Barb was wheeling a large black garbage can out to the curb. The neighbor across the street, who was watering his lawn, spotted Barb and waved her over. Making a snap decision, Veronica hurried to the door.

"Stay with him for a minute," she told Wallace. "I'll be right back."

"Are you serious?"

Veronica ignored him and left the room, immediately opening the door to the room across the hall. It was a bathroom. She closed the door and moved to the next room, looking for something-anything- that might help. When she opened the door to the garage, she smiled.

"Yahtzee."

There were over a dozen metal storage racks against the walls, stacked with hundreds of white file folders. She walked rapidly towards the first rack, her eyes scanning the neat black writing on the outside of each box. Jo-Jo, 1994. Ma-Mc, 1989. Az-Ba, 1982.

Veronica smiled. Alphabetized and dated by year, and if they went back to 1982 that meant Rose's box was in here somewhere. Unfortunately, they weren't in order.

She peeked through one of the windows in the garage door. Barb was still chatting with the neighbor, but she knew she didn't have much time. She began her search.

Veronica lucked out on the third row, finding Cu-Da and Da-Da from 1984. She pulled the boxes off the shelves and looked around, trying to figure out what to do with them. She couldn't search them individually now; she'd have to take the boxes and go through them later.

Despite the warning in her head that she needed to hurry, she hesitated. Taking these files was more than unethical, it was illegal. And some of these files could contain sensitive personal information. It was a serious violation of privacy.

_But if I only look at _one_ file, and destroy the rest…_ Yes, that's what she would do. Because the answers were in there, somewhere. She couldn't pass up this opportunity.

Spotting a side door, Veronica made a decision. She hauled both boxes to the door, opened it and stacked them outside. She was heading back into the house when she saw one more box. Da-De, 1984. Mentally kicking herself for not checking more thoroughly, she quickly carried the last box to the door and set it outside.

She locked the door and glanced through the window again. Barb was walking back up the driveway to the house. Veronica hurried back into the house, making a beeline for the bathroom. She ran the water, rubbing at her eyes roughly and dabbing a bit of water onto her cheeks.

Barb was just about to walk back into Mr. Fitzsimmons's room when Veronica stepped out of the bathroom. Spotting her red-rimmed eyes and "tear-stained" cheeks, Barb sighed and patted her arm.

"He has good days and bad days," the nurse told her. "I'm sorry you caught him on a bad day."

Veronica managed a smile, but inside she cringed. It turned out the nurse was a real sweetie after all. _And I took advantage of her kindness._

"I'll just go say goodbye," Veronica said quietly. She went back into the room. Wallace stood next to the bed, silently watching the Padres game with Mr. Fitzsimmons. He shot her a look, but said nothing.

She picked up the old man's hand and smiled down at him. "I hope Elizabeth comes to see you for real," she said softly. "And I'm sorry."

"Elizabeth," he repeated happily. "You're just as lovely as I remember."

Veronica stood up and wiped her eyes, squeezing his hand once before heading for the door. This time, she didn't need to fake the tears.

She thanked Barb and they walked outside. Wallace let out a loud sigh. "Well, that sucked. Did you at least get what you needed?"

"Follow me."

Veronica led Wallace over to the side door of the garage and pointed at the file boxes. He rolled his eyes but made no further comment, merely stooping down to pick the first box up. They loaded all three into the back of Veronica's SUV and pulled out of the driveway.

As they started down the street, Wallace turned to Veronica. "Most depressing road trip ever."

Veronica steered the car right, glancing over at her friend. "I'm sorry I'm not like normal people," she said quietly.

Wallace shrugged. "Eh, don't sweat it. Normal is boring. And you are most _definitely_ not that."

Veronica smiled at him, refocusing on the road. She knew that once upon a time she really _had_ been carefree. That she used to take road trips just for the sake of adventure, with no underlying ulterior motives. Logan driving without a license and Duncan shotgun, she and Lilly in the back giggling and gossiping and living one hundred percent in the moment.

_Those days are gone for good. Everything has changed. _

Wallace leaned forward, fiddling with the radio. He found a station playing old school west coast rap and grinned at her, bobbing his head in tune to the music. His mood was infectious, and Veronica nodded her head along with him as she drove towards the horizon. _But not all change is bad._

**A/N Thanks for reading. Should I keep going with this? There haven't been too many reviews, so I'm not sure if people are into it or not.**


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